Monsters Return 1
by SheriAnn
Summary: Sequel to Away from Monsters. Lucas finds that not all monsters are easily buried.


_Disclaimer: This is an amateur work meant in no way to infringe upon the rights of Amblin Entertainment or the Sci-Fi Channel. Lucas Wolenczak, Nathan Bridger, seaQuest, etc., are all the sole property of Amblin Entertainment and its cohorts in Hollywood._

_This is a first season story. It's a sequel to my earlier story, "Away from Monsters" (hence the title, "Monsters Return")._

_Rating: PG-13 for adult language and some adult content/themes. This deals with raw issues (such as child abuse); if you are in anyway uncomfortable with these themes, I would suggest looking elsewhere._

_Copyright 1999 by SheriAnn_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Monsters Return   
Part One

  
  
  
  
  


Safely tucked within his stateroom aboard the _seaQuest_, Captain Nathan Bridger sighed, lowering his forehead to his hands. He moaned. He was finally alone. Though his stomach ached from the several convoluted knots formed during his recent interview with Bill Noyce, he was now damned alone.

There was a God.

After a moment, Nathan looked up. He opened his eyes, wishing he were anywhere but here—wishing he were anyone but himself. And he was steadfastly wishing he worked for anyone but the United Earth/Oceans Organization on the United Earth/Oceans Organization's flagship seaQuest with the United Earth/Oceans Organization's interests breathing down his throat. But a wish didn't change what was true. A wish didn't change the UEO's minds.

Sometimes, he hated his job. And this was certainly one of those times.

For a moment—briefly—he considered his options. His consideration of the options was brief this time, though, and for one very good reason: he didn't have many. He either obeyed the UEO's orders (in other words, he did his job as required) or he didn't (in other words, he quit). Those were the only options available; no ands, ifs, or buts existed on this one.

He could quit. He could tell the UEO where to place their orders and leave.

He could do it.

But then—that wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the very nasty fact that the UEO was asking him to do something he couldn't agree with. The UEO would simply get someone who would follow orders.

And most would—easily. No questions asked.

Because most people wouldn't understand what was so damnably wrong with the orders in the first place. Even Noyce—who knew, who damned well _knew_ about the case—hadn't seen any real problem with the UEO's decision. Most captains wouldn't even begin to grasp the true problems involved in this situation.

And just what was the "situation"? It was actually quite simple. The UEO needed a highly valuable, prominent _someone_ transported from destination X to destination Z. They needed that transport quickly. Finally, once this highly valuable, prominent individual reached destination Z, the UEO also needed any and all support to be offered to that person to contain what could otherwise be global atmospheric catastrophe. The UEO had even been so kind as to draw up a list of absolutely crucial support personnel from the seaQuest's rosters.

No problem, so far. The _seaQuest_ had fulfilled such missions countless times before. They probably would continue fulfilling such missions countless times in the future. However, as with most things, the problem was actually to be found in the details. In this case, the "details" involved two people: "the valuable, prominent individual" and one of the "absolutely crucial support personnel" from the _seaQuest_.

Here was the big clue: both names ended with Wolenczak.

Fancy that.

Sitting back in his chair, Nathan ran a hand through his hair. God, this was awful. No, it was preposterous. It was throwing lambs and wolves together and expecting good behavior.

He snorted. _Fat chance._

For the brilliant and famous Doctor Wolenczak would shortly be on board the _seaQuest_—only a few doors down from his equally brilliant and increasingly well known son, Lucas Wolenczak. A happy reunion, under most circumstances; but this was not most circumstances. The truth of the matter was that Doctor Wolenczak was, in Nathan's opinion, a monster. The "good doctor" had so periodically abused Lucas Wolenczak that the child had ended up in the hospital almost every three or four months for the past few years he'd been in his father's custody; the records of this abuse were frightening, indeed horrifying.

However, now that he was aboard the _seaQuest_, Lucas had been safe from his father: safe from the abuse, safe from the pain, safe from the torture. He'd relaxed, becoming a regular child: laughing, happy, prone to mischief. A regular child (always excepting the huge IQ attached to this "regular child," of course). He'd unwrapped the miles of emotional barbed wire surrounding himself; he'd learned to trust others.

But Nathan feared, Lord, did he ever fear what would happen now. Lucas was just learning to trust; he was just learning to relax, to laugh, to enjoy himself. Seeing his father—even worse, seeing his father on board his haven, his security zone—would be more than merely frightening. It would be the return of nightmares. It would be the return of monsters previously believed dead or hibernating.

Nathan's stomach turned.

It could be even worse. Doctor Wolenczak could hurt the child, physically hurt him. The monster had done so in the past; Nathan wasn't stupid enough to suppose it couldn't happen again.

Grinding his teeth, Nathan rose from his chair, pounding his fist against the wall. God, this was unreal. Unreal! Damn it, if Wolenczak even tried to hurt Lucas, if the bastard as much as looked at the child wrong, Nathan swore he'd kill him. He'd kill him with his bare hands.

He and just about everyone else on board the _seaQuest_, that is. Though most of the crew didn't know the truth about Doctor Wolenczak, they were fiercely protective of their child prodigy, their child computer wizard and friend. If Doctor Wolenczak laid a cruel finger on Lucas, they'd have trouble finding enough of the Doctor's remains to bury him.

He growled. Lord, he wanted to kill Doctor Wolenczak. He wanted to kill him for putting that frightened expression in Lucas's eyes, for putting those bruises on his skin, for putting those nightmares in his mind. He wanted to kill him for putting that tiny scar on Lucas's throat, that tiny scar from Lucas's tracheotomy. God, the bastard had tried to strangle his own son to death; what was worse, he'd almost succeeded. He'd almost succeeded at killing Lucas! And he was coming on board the same boat as his son?

Again, Nathan growled, pacing.

The UEO knew. They knew what the monster had tried to do to Lucas.

And here they were ordering Doctor Wolenczak onboard the _seaQuest_.

Here they were ordering Lucas Wolenczak, his abused son, to work with Doctor Wolenczak as needed. As needed!

Doctor Wolenczak was coming aboard. He was coming aboard the boat.

And there wasn't a damned thing Nathan could do about it.   
  
  


***** 

  
  


Ben, of course, flipped at the news. Not that Nathan could actually blame him.

Nathan sighed, sourly reflecting that he'd been doing a lot of that lately. He'd done a lot of sighing because he couldn't agree with what was being done, but he also couldn't change it. It hurt, this helplessness. He felt utterly ineffective, utterly out of control. He was the captain, but he was as powerless to stop the UEO's orders as the lowest deckhand on the lowest ship in the fleet.

He thought of Lucas, of that mischievous smile, that soft laugh, that intense mind. Putting the child in contact with his abusive father now, when he was just beginning to breathe freely, to experience life without jumping in fear at the slightest movement . . . Nathan didn't know what would happen. All he knew was that it couldn't be in Lucas's favor. Lucas was recovering, but you damned well didn't throw a bottle of vodka to a recovering alcoholic. You didn't throw an abusive father into the same ring as his son when that son was just beginning to recover from a past lined with torture, with brutalizing pain.

How could they do this? How could the UEO order this?

Silently, Nathan gazed at Ben Krieg. The man was positively fuming; if he were any hotter with anger, Nathan figured the lieutenant could sell his body heat as energy and make millions. He watched as Ben kicked the wall, slammed his hand against a table, and ran a distracted hand through his hair. Yes, Krieg was angry, all right. Nathan wouldn't care to be a member of the UEO just right now. Or Doctor Wolenczak, for that matter; no, certainly not the Doctor. One look at either of them and Ben would kill them.

Though he'd never want to be Doctor Wolenczak if it included torturing your son, no matter how brilliant or otherwise respectable Doctor Wolenczak might be.

Slowly, he cleared his throat. After a moment of red-hazed silence, Krieg turned to him, his expression clearly announcing war: dark eyes glaring, cheeks reddened in anger, brows drawn. Nathan again cleared his throat, giving the lieutenant enough time to recover some of his composure.

Ben merely stared at him, an animal warily eyeing its captor.

Finally, Nathan shook his head. "Ben, this does us no good," he began. "The UEO gave the orders; they're official. I've tried arguing, pleading, begging, fuming, arguing some more, and again begging. None of this has worked, not even with Bill. The orders aren't going to change. We have to accept that. What we have to do now is figure a way to get through this with as little damage as possible . . ."

"As little damage as possible!" Ben exploded, interrupting as he paced back and forth, back and forth. He glared at his captain. "Sir, damn it, Lucas is going to be 'damaged' just by his father's presence. That's not even taking into account that they have to work together—my God, work together!"

He stopped, whipping around to look at Bridger. "How do you suggest we go about 'damage control' on this, sir? Hmmm? I'll tell you the answer: there is none! There is no damage control for this situation. The only way we can avoid damage is by not letting this happen in the first place."

Nathan nodded, silently agreeing with everything the lieutenant had just said; he was right. But Nathan also didn't see any options. "I know, Ben—damn it, I know. Don't you think I've been as angry as you? Don't you think I'm scared to death over what will happen from this?" He paused, inhaling deeply. "I am, Ben. Lord, I am. I love that kid; I'd do anything to protect him. But there isn't a thing we can do about it. The orders are there. We have no choice. What we need to do is decide how to help and protect Lucas with the situation as it currently is!"

Ben simply stared at the floor; then, "Sir, don't you think Lucas has been through enough lately? I—I don't know if he can take any more. He's just a child—a child who's been hurt and hurt and hurt—you can only push so far. Lucas is just getting over his past. And only two months ago, he tried committing suicide. His father has messed with his mind; he's only now coming out of that mess." Ben paused, glancing up at Nathan with frightened eyes. "Sir, I'm scared to death what this will do to him. He's a kid. The last thing he needs is _this_. The last thing he needs is to be whammed in the face with a walking nightmare."

Nathan nodded, again agreeing: agreeing only too well with his lieutenant. He rubbed an absent finger along his jaw, rubbing at the unusually long hairs bristling through his skin. Since this latest business with the UEO had started, he'd been incapable of maintaining even the simplest of personal routines. He burned to smack several UEO members over the head with the largest object he could find. Perhaps then they would understand what they were asking Lucas to go through. Perhaps then they would open their foolishly blind eyes to what they were doing.

Finally, he said, "Lieutenant, I don't think we have any choice on this. I've tried every option I know of to change these orders."

Ben simply glared at him.

Ignoring the glare, Bridger continued, "What I think we need to do now is figure how we're going to protect Lucas from his father . . . with the understanding that his father will be here, like it or not. And very soon."

Angry, Ben again thumped his fist into the nearest wall, then turned to Nathan. He nodded. Slowly, he said, "I think we should let a few people in on what the true . . . situation . . . is between Lucas and his father."

As Nathan opened his mouth to protest, Ben shook his head, holding up a hand to forestall his captain's words. "Sir, I would never do this otherwise, but if we are to protect Lucas, others are going to have to know there is a problem here. They're going to have to know to keep near Lucas at all times, to not let him or his goat of a father out of sight. I'm not suggesting we tell them everything; I'm not suggesting we tell them why Lucas tried to commit suicide. Only what is absolutely necessary for them to know. We'll organize an 'attack squad' of sorts—one whose sole mission is to keep Lucas's father at a hundred foot distance."

After a moment, Nathan inhaled deeply. The plan had its benefits, obviously, the clearest being that someone would be near Lucas when Ben or Nathan couldn't be. He then asked, "So, how many are you suggesting—and who?"

"I've put some thought into this, sir. I'm thinking of a regular attack squad of about six people, myself included in that number, and those closest to Lucas would be best. We'll keep this secret from Lucas as long as possible; with any luck, he'll never hear of it. I was thinking of Lieutenant Commander Hitchcock, Sensor Chief Ortiz, Security Chief Crocker, Lieutenant O'Neill, and Commander Ford. I'll also ask for Doctor Westphalen's help."

Nathan started at the commander's name on the list, staring at Krieg with surprise. He shook his head, puzzled. "I thought you and Commander Ford were about as friendly as cats and dogs. Why Jonathon?"

Refusing to look at him, Ben simply answered, "Because he's the best man for the job." He frowned, then explained after a moment's consideration, "I wouldn't ever call him close to Lucas, but at least they seem to get along pretty well. He watches out for him. I've seen it several times."

He paused, clearly unsettled by the subject. Finally, Ben cleared his throat and added, "Though I hate to admit it, I even think there is more to him than meets the eye. I think he cares for people more than he likes to show, and Lucas just happens to be one of those people he cares for. And he's good, sir. He knows the ropes more than I do, that's for sure. If Lucas is placed under his care, he'll go out of his way to keep him safe. I know it."

After a moment's regard of Krieg' face, Nathan carefully said, "You're right on several counts there, Ben. I'm glad to see you realized this. Commander Ford, though very polished and professional on the outside, isn't quite as impersonal as he might seem. And he does care for Lucas—of this I'm certain. In fact . . ." Nathan paused hesitantly, thinking, then said, "He's very perceptive. He's been asking about Lucas the past few months or so . . . little things he's noticed that worry him: the way he sometimes jumps when someone comes up from behind him, the way he flinches . . . you know very well what I'm talking about. He's noticed this. Just last week he was asking if I knew what Lucas's home life had been like. I think he suspects the truth. He wouldn't notice things like this, he wouldn't take the time to ask about them, if he didn't care . . . and care tremendously, at that."

A second passed, then Ben asked, "What did you tell him, though, sir?"

"I simply told him I knew it'd been rough, but nothing more conclusive." He paused, then shook his head, suddenly amused. At Ben's questioning look, he quickly explained, "This is going to really rankle his nerves, I think: your knowing something that he didn't. He isn't going to be overly pleased with me, either, for hiding the truth."

Ben wryly reflected that at least this time, Ford would have another target for his anger; this was a rare event, indeed, for Ben's back tended to be the sole target of the Commander's ire. His mood steadily soured, though, as he considered the reason Ford would be angry in the first place. Running a hand through his hair and bleakly imagining the rising tension levels over the next few weeks, Ben stepped towards the door, saying before he left, "I'll assemble everyone in the wardroom, sir. It shouldn't take long."

Bridger nodded, then watched as his lieutenant practically stalked out of the room.

_One down, five to go—no, six, with Kristin included._

He sighed at the idea. Confronting six angry faces, all of them outraged over the UEO's recent decision on Doctor Wolenczak, wasn't going to be easy.

And then there was the matter of telling Lucas, too.

Something told him that would be about as easy as running a marathon blindfolded.   
  



End file.
